Nothing Good Rhymes With Lily
by AllKiltedOut
Summary: It's Lily Evans' birthday tomorrow and James Potter has been planning something special. How hard can it be?


Remus Lupin walked into his dormitory and immediately let out a groan. At least a hundred pages of ripped and balled up parchment littered the wooden floor, several worn out quills poked out from underneath, blots of ink dripped like black tears from their broken nibs.

Alerted by the sound of the new arrival, a boy sitting surrounded by the largest pile of rubbish, his hair sticking up in all directions, wearing glasses that sported some impressive ink stains twisted round to cast his bleary, blood-shot hazel eyes on the intruder. Remus raised his eyebrows as he dropped his bag onto his bed and sat down next to it.

"James, you have to stop."

"I can't, Moony, I'm so close. I can feel it in my gut; this time it's going to work. It has to," he muttered, ripping another page from his notebook and tossing it across the room to join the rest of its rejected kin.

"No, it-"

"It started off so well," James continued, his eyes wide as he scribbled frantically. "But then I ran out of inspiration... well not inspiration, all I have to do is look at her and ..." he trailed off, shaking his head with a frustrated sigh. "It's getting my thoughts out of my head and onto the paper... in a way that makes sense... and sounds good... and rhymes. Rhyming is hard."

"Songs don't always have to rhyme," Remus said as he started undressing for bed.

James let out sound that sounded half deranged cackle, half choking sob, and started shaking his head as he replied, "Oh, Remus, my sweet naive friend, unfortunately we both thought too highly of my creative abilities. It occurred to me two hours and thirty pages ago that there's no way in hell I can write her a song in time for her birthday."

"Which is-"

"In three hours and twenty six minutes," James finished, not seeming to realise that he was still shaking his head.

"So, you're writing a poem?"

"A limerick."

His friend's face was completely serious as he continued scribbling ideas down, occasionally stopping to violently score over a line and start over. Remus closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. James' brilliant ideas often led them to this moment. The acoustic guitar stage; the ice cream maker; the kittens... he still had scars from the kittens. And the ice cream maker. He had to be stopped before more physical and emotional damage was done. The soft snoring emanating from the furthest away curtained off bed indicated that Peter would be of no use tonight, Sirius was out doing Merlin-knew-what, and MacArthur... well, their fifth roommate wasn't even worth mentioning, really.

It was down to Remus.

Easing his tired bones down onto the floor, he scooted towards James slowly and carefully, as he would a skittish animal.

"So... what do you have so far?" he asked nonchalantly.

James hesitated, then cleared his throat and began to read:

"There was a young witch named Lily  
Who did not care to be silly  
So I wrote her this tale  
To show that I'm a good male  
And together we would make 'Jily'."

James looked up from his work of art to see Remus sitting with his head in his hands and he dropped the notebook on the floor with an annoyed huff. "You hate it. It's terrible."

"James, you're my friend and I don't want to hurt you."

"But it's terrible."

"It's terrible."

James sighed. "I know, nothing good rhymes with Lily. I can't read this to her, she'll think I'm taking the piss."

"You should read her the one I wrote for you, Prongs." Finally making his entrance, Sirius sauntered in and flopped backwards onto his bed, yawning loudly.

"That one will get me expelled."

"I don't want to know," Remus said as Sirius propped himself up on his elbows and grinned down at his friends as, ignoring their protests, he started to announce loudly:

"There was once a witch named Lily  
Who used to shriek ever so shrilly  
That our best mate James  
Gave her such pains  
And she'd never touch his-oof!"

A pillow and several balls of parchment stifled the end of Sirius' crude contribution and poor James threw his hands up in the air in defeat.

"It's impossible! I've been working on this for days and the best I've got is made-up words and dick jokes."

"That is kind of what we're best at," Sirius said throwing the pillow back at Remus. "So in a way, it encapsulates your spirit. It comes from the heart, dear James, and that is what true love is all about."

"True sleep deprivation and delusion more like," Remus muttered.

Collapsing face first onto the floorboards, James let out a muffled moan. "What do I do?"

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